Aftermath
by nerdforsale
Summary: What happens after they lose their hearts? Mild language.


I started this story in June, and only finished it today. The style is funky, as I was in something of a... rut for most of the summer. Review if you'd like; tell me if I should add another chapter, which would be their reactions before death. Or, just, basically, each of their deaths and what goes through their minds. I'm still considering whether I want to do that or not. But, enjoy.

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The loss of a heart is a traumatic experience, even for those with the strongest of hearts, strongest of minds, bodies, spirits, intelligence... It's like being submerged in water too long, that your lungs begin to constrict and beat for any kind of oxygen they can consume, then the pain of finally coming up and being filled with air. Or being shot. For some, it hurts so much it's numbing, while, for others, it's a searing, white feeling of agony. Darkness seeping into your body, like red hot daggers, and that crystalline heart-shaped gem being wrenched from your body. It's astounding if anyone can withstand such a torturous process without going completely insane. Maybe that is what separates the strong from the weak, and what a non-heart being and its heartless become in its second life.

The apprentices hadn't even the vaguest idea of the consequences of their experimentations with hearts, and the darkness that lurked within. They could not have even been able to hypothesize the outcome. It started with Xehanort, the darkness consuming him, and pulling the rest down with him into that pit of darkness with promises of strength, knowledge, power...  
"Curiosity killed the metaphorical cat," Braig had commented some time after the entire incident, when the six were sitting in an abandoned home on that abandoned planet for things that weren't supposed to exist but_ did_.  
"Or 'cats'," Dilan had corrected.

The six, and the rest of the Organization to come, all reacted differently to the shock of being just an empty shell, capable of existence but banned from being capable of _really_ existing. It was difficult to swallow, and eve harder to fathom what would come in the future.

Xehanort seemed to have the withdrawing reaction, staying quiet and keeping to himself for most of the first year of their lives as Nobodies. Even while the other five coped in their own ways, he was oblivious to his surroundings, seeming to be calculating behind the unreadable expression he constantly wore, silver hair falling darkly into his face with his back in the corner and his hands tucked into his lap. His brows were always furrowed, sometimes his eyes shut as if he were sleeping, sometimes clenched closed as the others fought; the only indication of his acknowledgment of those around him.  
At first he hardly ate(just enough to sustain himself), then gradually ate more as time passed. The others assumed this was him testing the limits of this new situation, as he was always doing; a true scientist.

Braig's reaction was a little less composed. He tried to hold it together to the best of his abilities, partly to show Dilan up, who seemed to be taking it far better than his older friend. This brought on much of the fighting.  
"How can you just sit there like a smug bastard and not show how this whole mess bothers you... DOES it bother you? Maybe you've always been a heartless bastard like that..."  
"You_ know_ what I've always been like, Braig."  
The other would scowl, narrowing his eyes  
"Maybe I've forgotten in the heat of all this shit..."  
This was just his way to deal with it. It was the only way he could vent out his anger and frustration and worry while holding onto his prideful ways; and being one of the older Nobodies there, he felt it was partly his duty to be a sort of "role model", though there wasn't much to look up to him for.  
There were other times, however, where he woke in a cold sweat, two golden eyes wide in the horrible darkness, hands shaking, and he would crawl to the nearest person and huddle next to them, resisting the urge to cry his pain away, if only to cling to his "pride".

Despite how he appeared on the outside, Dilan was no better than Braig was; he was just better at hiding his turmoil.  
"I don't know how you could have forgotten about something like that. We've only lost our hearts, not our memories, jackass."  
He didn't want to fight. He wanted to sit and try to work out what was happening in some kind of logical way that would make sense, figure out how to react, and oftentimes he would be seen rubbing his temples in slow, circular motions or holding onto his hair tightly, as if struggling to think. It didn't help when he had Braig constantly trying to start fights with him, or Even in the corner sobbing incoherently. Dilan wished he could have been like Xehanort, or Ienzo perhaps, maybe even Aeleus... He wanted to have more control over the situation like they seemed to, but he was incapable of it, even when he had to console Braig in the dead of night.

Even was inconsolable; even in his sleep, he would whimper softly. Aeleus spent much of his time with the blond, trying to reassure him. Often Dilan or Braig snapped at him to shut up, which he did to a degree, and not for very long. During this time, he would write compulsively, any small thing he could remember, as if he were afraid he would lose the ability to formulate thoughts, ideas, beliefs, hypotheses, equations, pi, the names of his previously favorite books, their own names, where they came from... and whose fault it was that they were in this situation...

The peace maker of the group was Aeleus, which was something that hadn't changed from their previous lives. He always did try to keep the peace, tried to compromise or find some kind of middle ground. He was the only one who really tried to help Even to cope, and he was the only one Ienzo would really talk to. Aeleus was the one to try to coax Xehanort to eat, half the time succeeding while the other half bringing the full plate over to share amongst the others. He was the only on who seemed to be more worried about everyone else than himself.

"Aeleus, why must they act so childish?" Ienzo said late one night. Even had been asleep in his corner, shivering, and Braig and Dilan had left to explore their new home. Xehanort hadn't moved all day.  
"They don't know what else to do, Ienzo," Aeleus explained softly, thumbing at the frayed edges of a newly developed hole in his pants. The smaller male was quiet after that, leaning to his right and picking up a tattered book from the floor by his foot. He set it down on his knees, staring at it with intense eyes.  
"I don't like it," he finally replied, opening the book to a page and attempting to decipher the words that didn't matter anymore. Aeleus knew there was nothing left to say after this and continued to pick at his pants with obsession.

Time passes like the water that falls endlessly from the pitch-black skies on the World That Never Was. There isn't a day that goes by that the six Nobodies have seen the light of the sun in this desolate place. A glowing, white and yellow moon looms in the distant sky, and not even stars are able to penetrate through the thick black shroud of the never-ending night. A year goes by, and in the middle of their second comes an idea. Their Xehanort has a plan.  
Vaguely remembering the past, the other five are wary to follow him again.  
"Xehanort... What if something like this happens again?"  
The darker skinned Nobody snorts.  
"We've already lost our hearts. We can't lose them again."  
Braig isn't amused by the silver-haired man's little tease, and he steps closer, face hardened, and golden eyes narrowed in the dim light of their too small living space.  
"How can you possibly expect us to trust you again? How can... How can you even **think** that we would? Are you really so sure of yourself? So ignorant? Haven't learned your damn lesson by now? Or are you in denial... It was your fault."  
Xehanort smirks, one that is all too familiar to the former apprentices. Dilan frowns. Even bites his lip to resist a whimper.  
"It isn't my fault you decided to follow me. It was a choice of your own, Braig. You all were swayed by the idea of what lies beyond the unknown, beyond the forbidden. I only led us in the right direction: I didn't make you walk," he pauses as he sees the look on some of their faces, expressions of realization, "actions don't lie, friends."

So was formulated their group: The Organization. And so were their names: Zexion, Lexaeus, Vexen, Xaldin, Xigbar, and Xemnas - their new persons.

But their goal was not easy, and it was far off. Very far. Far enough that they realized, "Six isn't enough." They needed to increase their numbers, if only to bring them closer to the point of finality.

It starts with their first new recruit, a savage man with hair like the blue flame of a torch, vicious yellow eyes always reflecting some wild beast. His feral nature doesn't shimmer only in his eyes though.  
"He's a handful," Xaldin comments to Lexaeus as they carry the unconscious beast to a finely crafted cage of the strongest material Lexaeus could muster to summon.  
"I have to wonder if Br-- Xigbar will be alright after that attack," Five replies quietly, placing the blue-haired man into his cage with care. Three only shrugs and turns away from the newest member of their organization.  
"What was this guy's name again?" Lexaeus asks as they leave the room. Xaldin pauses momentarily, pondering this, then replies, "Saïx."

"Punch me. Come on, just punch me, you fucking bastard. Do it, come on, just _do_ it."  
Xaldin's glare is cold and unmoving, brows knitted together as the scrawny red head before him stands with his head twisted and his cheek pushed out.  
"No." The smooth, languid response hits Axel just as hard as any punch could be thrown at him.  
"Why not?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't you have any balls? Dammit, just... Hit me!" Bright green eyes are wide, quivering slightly, hands clenching tightly.  
"No."  
Axel is dumbfounded.  
"Why?! Why?..."  
A fist collides with his jaw, a cry escaping him, and Saïx looms over him with narrowed eyes. Xaldin looks between them, eyes shifting carefully, as Axel pushes himself onto his elbow off the floor, staring up at Seven. Tears form, but he grins crookedly despite them.  
"Get used to it," Seven spits, and Axel laughs.

They are skeptical of the third new recruit when he arrives, being led in by Xemnas. He seems timid, and innocent, eyes focused on the floor, shifting in his new coat and making small noises of discontent when he trips over his own feet. His entire approach to his new situation is different from the rest. He doesn't pick fights, or maul the hand that feeds him, or confine himself to his room.  
"Hey there. I'm Demyx, Number Nine! I saw you when I first came, and I was wondering what your name was?" More often then not, the hand he extends is rejected, slapped, or spat on. His smile weakens, brows creasing slightly with disappointment, not quite sure what to do. Then he hurries away with his head held a little lower than it had been previously. Until he's approached by someone new, who he finds to be far nicer than the rest had been.  
"Hey there, kid. Name's Xigbar."

Luxord doesn't want to be bothered when he arrives. Often times he is seen shuffling his cards, never saying a word to his fellow Nobodies. The blond stays to himself, focusing on the 6 of clubs he's just stuck into the deck, eying the queen of hearts at the bottom, and mixing it in so it's a 2 of clubs, instead of that taunting red heart.  
"I wonder if he's a mute," Demyx says to Axel a week or so after Luxord arrives, as they sit as a table at the other side of the room from him. The redhead simply snorts at the ridiculousness of the idea and waves it aside like an annoying bug buzzing at his ear. But this action is stopped short by a clatter of 52 cards hitting the floor, and a loud, somewhat hoarse, "SHITE" from their silent blond mystery.  
"Sodding cards," Luxord scowls, lowering to the floor, not even noticing as his two superiors scurry away to spread the news of their new member.

"I don't think he's in his right mind," Xigbar says when he sees their newest member. The rosy-brown haired man sits there, slumped forwards into his lap, while the Freeshooter nudges him gently with the toe of his boot. Xaldin gives Two a light nudge with his elbow, to get to work, and Xigbar responds with a roll of his singular eye.  
"Let's just get this over with," the Whirlwind Lancer says in a tone that suggests he really doesn't want to be there.  
"Seriously though, _look_ at him. He can't even pick his head up. You made sure he was alive, right?" Xigbar chatters to his fellow nobody, eye wandering around the forests' treetops, and he doesn't notice as a vine curls up around his ankle. Xaldin's gaze hasn't left the new recruit in all the time they had been in his presence, and as he watches the vines continue to make their way up along the second in command's calf, he backs away considerably, though giving no warning to his superior. The new nobody still slumped on the ground begins to shake slightly, arms lifting and fingers weaving tightly into his hair; he releases an earsplitting scream and Xigbar is thrown into the air like a rag doll.

Larxene is possibly the smuggest, rudest, sadistic nobody they have encountered, only rivaled by Saïx, who is still the reigning champion of a bad temper, or so say most of the Organization members.  
"Name's Axel. Got it memorized?"  
"I don't give a fuck who you are; _get out of my way_."  
"Hey, I'm your superior, _Twelve_. You'd better learn to respect me, or I'll kick your ass."  
"Ha! I'd like to see you try."  
Spats like this happen regularly when it comes to Larxene, until the rest of the Organization learn to not even acknowledge her presence when she enters a room – it's the best way to avoid a fight. However, one Nobody makes "friends".  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Larxene. Your beauty is unsurpassable, even to my own."  
She is intrigued by his flattery.  
"My name is Marluxia. Care to be friends?"

The letters are in disarray, the word forming something unpronounceable by the human tongue. He stares with bright blue eyes, and the man in black gives a slow swipe of his hand across the line of letters. They part, cluster together, then each letter, one by one, moves into position, like a puzzle being put into place. Even when that puzzle finishes, though, something still seems to be missing.  
Xemnas leans forwards a little, his hand moves and pulls his hood back somewhat, and he gives Thirteen a chilly sort of empty smile. The blonde stares.  
"Welcome to the Organization, Roxas."


End file.
